If I Were the Rain
by Lord Zant
Summary: Orihime-centric fic. Dark. A story of redemption, acceptance, and love.
1. Chapter 1: Scrape

**Hey...**

**This is a new beginning for me. I'm branching out to new fandoms, taking on a new style (very angsty), and exploring the darker side of being a hero. I don't know if anyone will like this story, (People usually don't find my stories interesting, or particularly well-written) but I think it's very thought-provoking. **

**Each chapter'll start with a new addition to Tite Kubo's "If I Were Rain" soliloquy from page one of volume three of the manga "Bleach." (They'll definately be longer, too - this is a very pathetic chapter for me. When I get really used to a fic, I can churn out 4000 words per chapter...) His original will always be first, followed by a line of my own design, that sets the stage for the chapter. (Lol, rhyme!)**

**The focus of this story is gonna be Orihime Inoue, AKA the Red-haired high school girl with magical hairpins and a bizzare imagination. Quite possibly, it will involve IchiHime.**

**So... yeah. I don't own the manga, the anime, any related images, songs, videos, characters, places, ideas, poetry, or... yeah. I'd have an Xbox if I were that rich.**

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_If I were rain, that binds together earth and sky that otherwise never touch, could I bind two hearts as well?_

_If I were the rain, that covers the land and hides the color of the earth with my accompanying darkness, could I conceal my pain and my hatred within?_

Scrape.

Inoue dragged the razor across her arm, gently applying pressure. A quick stab of pain - this was it - the point of decision. The time at which most minds were changed. That first jolt of pain that awakened all but the most despairing souls to what they were about to do to their bodies.

Inoue herself had reached this point many times before. Ever since returning from Hueco Mundo, she had been more subdued, and less imaginative. The horrors of that stint of imprisonment among the foulest of the Arrancar would never truly leave her. The horrors of what her friends had been through because of her would never leave her, either.

Yes, she had reached this point many times before, but this time, for the first time, she shoved it aside. Scrape. The blood began to slowly drizzle up into the shallow cut she had just drawn across her wrist. Again she placed the razor on her arm, preparing to pull again, severing the skin, and giving her the pain. The pain she deserved, she pain she loved, the pain that clouded her mind.

Ichigo had told her today that he considered it his own fault that she had been captured. After all, he had said, it was his overflowing Reiatsu that had caused Inoue to acquire the Shun Shun Rikka. He was the one that failed with Yammy, and the one that allowed Ulquiorra to glimpse her true power. Inoue was certain that the orange-haired Shinigami had meant well, that he had picked up on the anguish she carried, but he hadn't helped. He had no need to help her with her burdens, the burdens her own failures brought upon her.

She had gained the resolve there, in that moment in the hall.

She was letting her pain show, she was affecting again those she had affected enough, and she was subconsciously calling out for their help once more. They had gone through enough for her sake.

Scrape.

She would teach herself to never do that again.

Scrape.

She stepped outside into the rain, so that her blood wouldn't spill where the others might see it and worry, and watched silently as her own life-force trickled down her arm, ran off of her fingertips, and dripped slowly into the puddles forming beneath her feet, tainting them with its reddish glow.

As the precipitation hit her arm, causing a painful stinging, the blood began to mingle with the water, running raster. But not fast enough, it seemed, as she remembered Ichigo's fight with Grimmjow. He had lost far more than the small amount that now dribbled down her arm. And she was already trying to convince herself to stop?

Scrape.

_Ichigo_.

Inoue cried out as the boy's bloody form filled her mind. Not only had she brought Ichigo to Hueco Mundo, she had allowed him to confront Ulquiorra, and then healed him to confront Grimmjow, as well. Her fear and selfishness had taken control again, and she hated herself for it.

Scrape. The dribble quickened.

Scrape. Another cut was started.

Inoue really did hate herself. She caused so much pain to others, and couldn't even defend herself. All she wanted was to be freed from her life, free from her body, free from her pain, the pain that haunted her every waking moment.

She screamed silently, her anguish far too much to bear. Bringing the blade down again, she let out a real screech, her horrible hatred being revealed to the night, her silent watcher. It echoed, twisted and warped by the wet walls of buildings until it sounded like the dieing cry of a monster.

And that's what it was, she though briefly, bringing the weapon down one final time, before it contacted with her final goal, the vein that lay deep within her soft, pale arm. Blood spurted across the street this time, her vision blackening as she watched it splatter against the open, lonely pathway.

Scrape.

She collapsed.


	2. Chapter 2: From the Hospital Bed

**Hey... I'd like to thank my two reviewers from last chapter: harri-chan, and especially Sage of Downtown Hyrule. Lol, he gave me what was probably the best review I've ever gotten. **

**Now, if anyone else is reading this, feel pressured to review. You never know - I might be right behind you with a knife as you read, or watching you through the scope on my sniper rifle... But seriously, I will only write faster if you review. **

**Also... I have a confession. This is a totally new writing style for me. If this chapter doesn't work for you, any help with my darker style would be very appreciated.**

**The focus of this story is gonna be Orihime Inoue, AKA the Red-haired high school girl with magical hairpins and a bizzare imagination. Quite possibly, it will involve IchiHime.**

**So... yeah. I don't own the manga, the anime, any related images, songs, videos, characters, places, ideas, poetry, or... yeah. I'd have an Xbox if I were that rich.**

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_If I were rain, that binds together earth and sky that otherwise never touch, could I bind two hearts as well?_

_If I were the rain, whose dark, swirling clouds concealed the true fury behind the storm, could I safeguard my emotions from those who seek them?_

Inoue awoke.

She kept her eyes closed - she wanted to know if she was still alive or not. She'd heard it was exceedingly rare for a soul to retain their memories of their life on earth after they departed for Soul Society. Either death had snatched away her chance for relief by allowing her to be one of the few that kept her memories, or somebody else had kept her alive.

The redhead stretched. Bed sheets - she felt bed sheets. Experimentally, she moved her arm slightly.

Pain shot up her arm and down, down her spine, finally dying out as it reached her toes.

She smiled dryly. She was alive. She had another try. And next time, she would make sure she her death was complete.

A slight stirring caught her attention, and she opened her eyes at last, her curiosity overcoming her. Orange hair was the first thing she saw. Spiky, orange hair, that seemed to explode from nowhere. Ichigo was here.

The boy lay on the floor, a blanket haphazardly spread over him. He looked uncomfortable. Ichigo was sprawled out on the floor, watching over her. Inoue's finger traced the bandages on her arm, as if they alone could do what the razor had failed to accomplish. Watching the boy shiver and tumble about on the floor brought out her pain again. The girl's eyes began to frantically dart around the room, seeking a method of escape.

A set of dissection tools was clearly labeled on the shelf across the room from her bed. There was bound to be something sharp there. Slowly, Orihime slid herself out of bed, her feet coming into contact with the freezing tile quickly. To make matters worse, the air conditioner vent blew across the freezing tile.

In all likelihood, this combination of tile and frigid air was making Ichigo's stay as uncomfortable as possible. Her finger absentmindedly traced her bandages, for that habit was quickly becoming her body's way of showing its guilt subconsciously.

Slowly, Inoue trudged across the sub-zero tile, balancing precariously on her bare feet while avoiding Ichigo's spread-eagled form. Miraculously, she made it to the shelves without incident. Carefully she removed the box of equipment, and gently she pawed through it, testing the sharpness of the blades with her thumb.

After a quick process of elimination, she removed the one that was most sharp, and placed the small, blue plastic container back onto the shelf she had taken it from. Inoue walked back over to her bed, and sat down. Gently at first, and then harder and harder, she pressed the scalpel to her arm. Slowly she began to slide it back and forth, creating a painful friction.

Ichigo snorted.

Orihime froze in place, eyes wide.

The boy rolled over, and curled into a tight ball - the cold had defeated him.

"I'm sorry you're going through all of this... Ichigo." Orihime whispered, as she pressed the blade once again to her now slightly pink forearm.

"Yeah, I know. It's freakin' miserable here on the floor." Ichigo whispered back, drowsily.

Orihime let out a squeak, and dropped the tool. It clattered to the floor, its fall creating a noise that reverberated across the silent room. She quickly bent to pick it up, but Ichigo had reacted faster.

"What the hell is this?" He asked gruffly, having beem startled when it fell. Examining it closely, he continued: "It looks like one of those knife-like things we used to cut open frogs in Biology."

"I-I think it is." Inoue replied faintly.

"And it's bloody? What the...?" His eyes traveled up to Inoue from the razor, up her legs and to her arms. Quickly, the redhead stowed her unbandaged left arm under her pillow. Ichigo's eyes caught sight of the bandages on her other arm, and widened momentarily.

"I, well, I saw a spider, and needed to kill it, and you know about those horrible diseases you can get from squashing some spiders with your bare hands, and I figured, after I got attacked last night, I probably shouldn't risk it, because it might somehow get into my bloodstream, and then I'd have a big problem, because then I'd have an even harder time recovering." Orihime rattled, fearing that Ichigo had somehow grasped what had really happened.

The boy was clearly not even trying to follow her story.

"Whatever you say, Orihime." Ichigo muttered, his eyes still darting between the scalpel in his hand, the wrappings on Inoue's, and the pillow that concealed her fresh cut. His face took on a troubled expression, then faded into a determined look. "You know, Orihime..." He began, slowly, "I think you should hang around with me often. I've been missing you since we got back from... well, since we got back." Ichigo avoided actually saying Hueco Mundo, seeing the pained expression that had spread across his friend's face at even an allusion to the Hollow World.

"Anyway," the boy continued, "I'll start walking you to school. That way, we can... get to know each other, or something, and check each other's homework." He paused, trying to gauge her reaction.

Orihime frowned into the darkness. "Well, I... I like to wake up at around five and start the day with some morning jogging, so thanks, but I think my schedule is too busy for an overworked Soul Reaper such as you." Inoue replied.

"You said five?" Ichigo asked passively, ignoring her complement.

Orihime's invisible frown deepened, the dark the only spectator of her exasperated frustration. "Uh... actually I'm usually eating at, oh... four-thirty." She replied, continuing to keep her voice light and toneless.

"Oh. Guess I'll see you at four thirty the day you're out of here, Inoue."

"Ichigo, you really don't need to do this. I'm fine on my own."

"I'm sure you are, but I don't want you... "Getting attacked" again. I'll talk to Rukia about it - I'm sure she'll agree." Ichigo said, dropping the charade. "This is for your safety."

"Thank you for always looking out for me, Kurosaki." Orihime said, giving in, and making a polite bow. She had to give him one thing - he knew what he wanted, and wouldn't stop 'til he got it.

"See you tomorrow." Ichigo said, rolling over on the floor again.

Orihime traced her bandages.

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Okay... Chapter edited.


End file.
